


Beat Rock Love: Interlude - Prince of Rock

by lucybeetle



Series: Beat Rock Love [9]
Category: Kamen Rider Ghost
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Crack, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-23
Updated: 2016-08-23
Packaged: 2018-08-10 16:13:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,492
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7852147
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lucybeetle/pseuds/lucybeetle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU. Alan contemplates events after breaking up with Makoto.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Beat Rock Love: Interlude - Prince of Rock

**Author's Note:**

  * For [guava](https://archiveofourown.org/users/guava/gifts).



> For guava, as is the rest of the story.
> 
> This is a shorter chapter than usual, but is intended as an interlude from Alan's POV and will lead into the ending of the story. Which is coming up fairly soon (good or bad news, depending on whether you've enjoyed the fic) but I have plans for a sequel - again, good or bad news!

“Why don’t you try talking to him?” said Alia.

Alan didn’t even need to respond. He just looked up at her, eyes narrowed and lower lip pouting.

“You can’t ignore him forever. You at least have to cancel the tour,” she said.

“Father is going to do it,” said Alan, and turned the page of his newspaper. Adonis was away on a business trip to Russia, otherwise he would already have approached Alan about ATM’s impending breakup. Even if his father had been at home, Alan wouldn’t have brought up the subject. He didn’t want to face it and either way he did not like bothering Adonis with his problems.  When Alan had been a child, Adonis had once described his business as like a very important machine; Adonis’s job was to keep that machine running well. Alan didn’t contribute to the maintenance of that machine, yet he benefited greatly from it. The least he could do was make sure that nothing slowed it down.

“But it’s _your_ responsibility,” said Alia.

“No, it is not. Takeru wanted this tour to happen. He can deal with it himself.”

“Alan.” Alia’s tones took Alan back to his childhood, when she’d told him to do chores or visit the doctor or something else he didn’t want to do, “You must _all_ take care of it. You worked together. Father will say the same thing.”

Alan ignored her and went to play in the Jacuzzi. He’d missed it when he lived with Makoto and Kanon. He had also missed his huge walk-in shower and wardrobe, the indoor pool, and sliding down the marble staircase on his bottom. Alan would quite happily have given up all these things for the rest of his life if he could be back in the little apartment he’d shared with Makoto and Kanon: sharing meals around the dining table,  watching dramas together on the sofa, snuggling up to Makoto in their bed at night. He would have moved them both into the de Ganma home if Makoto hadn’t always felt so awkward about mixing with Alan’s family and their social circle. Well, Makoto hadn’t been quite so hesitant when Adel was around at the video shoot.

Alan knew that he shouldn’t have got angry; shouldn’t have kicked Makoto out of the car. Not that any of it mattered now anyway since Makoto would never speak to him again. Makoto would be angry. Makoto would hate him. Alan couldn’t disappoint someone and then expect them to just come running back to him.

***

Alan went to the hairdresser to maintain his style and natural blond highlights. His salon had an entirely female staff, who all swooned over him and told him how lovely he was. He certainly didn’t feel lovely. He’d been wondering if he was beginning to lose his looks. It was only to be expected, now that he was in his thirties; even though he and his siblings were all regularly told that they looked at least ten years younger than their actual ages. They had good genes, like the rest of the de Ganma family line. His brother was older than Alan, yet Makoto didn’t seem to mind it when _Adel_ flirted with him. Alan gritted his teeth at the memory of the video shoot.

When Alan got home he took a long look in the mirror, checking for any signs of aging. Noses continued to grow as one aged; he knew that. Alan’s upturned little nose was one of his most attractive features, and an important part of his appeal as a model. He couldn’t _see_ that his nose had grown bigger or less pert than it had ever been but, if he wanted to maintain his career for as long as possible, it seemed prudent for him to have some preventative work done.

Alan was not sure how to go about this. He had never had any kind of surgical intervention before, and if his brother or sister had, neither of them was telling. His father owned shares in an exclusive (and expensive) Ginza clinic; so that seemed to be the safest option. Alan felt confident that Adonis wouldn’t support such a business unless it was reputable, with a good safety record. He made an appointment to attend the Nozama Clinic for a consultation.

The following morning, he sat in the clinic’s waiting room, fiddling with his iPad and sipping at a glass of designer water with lemon. He was deliberately avoiding checking his Instagram, and hadn’t been on the site since he and Makoto broke up. Many of the photos had Makoto in them and they all showed Alan with his natural, non-surgically-altered face. He did not relish the idea of pain and sinus trouble after his operation, nor of having a new and unfamiliar nose afterwards. But if his nose was threatening his career and causing Makoto to find him unattractive, Alan didn’t see what other choice he had.

“Would you like another drink?” someone said.

Alan looked up to see a young man, awkwardly lingering, long fringe falling into his eyes. He was fairly attractive but for the large mole on his face. Alan felt sorry for him. Wanting plastic surgery was one thing, but needing it was another. Alan recalled images of people with hideous birth marks, facial deformities, and burns. He vowed to make a substantial charitable donation to benefit those who weren’t blessed with enough money to attend the Nozama Clinic.

“Could I have another one of these, please?” he said, and handed out his glass. The young man returned shortly with more water for Alan.

“My name is Alan de Ganma. What’s yours?” said Alan.

 “I’m Mizusawa Haruka.” The young man frowned, “de Ganma, you say?”

“My father is a shareholder in the clinic. Do you know him?” said Alan.

“I haven’t met him personally – but I used to work for your brother.”

Alan thought. Adel employed quite a lot of people, but something jogged his memory, “Oh! You were in Amazonz! I know Takayama Jin. He’s upset that you quit.”

“Yeah … I know he is. Look, um, I really have to –”

“Are you here to have that mole removed from your face?” said Alan.

For a moment Haruka stood blinking at Alan; then his hand came up to cover his cheek, “No, I’m not having anything done. I’m not a patient.” He indicated towards the Staff Only sign above the doorway he’d just come through, “I work here. That’s why I’m serving drinks.”

“Perhaps you should think about it. Your mole is rather unsightly,” said Alan. “I intend to have a consultation about surgery on my nose. I think it is important to take preventative measures before my nose starts to grow with age.”

Haruka blinked at him. “Your nose is perfect. Seriously. If you really think you need surgery, maybe you should see a psychologist. In fact …” Haruka’s eyes widened, “My mother might be really interested in your nose.”

Alan said, “Is she going to make me lie on a couch and talk about how my father has disappointed me?”

“No, she’s not a psychologist. She’s one of the head surgeons at this clinic. Dr Mizusawa Reika. Was your appointment with her?”

“I don’t know,” said Alan.

“I’ll speak to them and make sure you get to see her,” said Haruka. “But you don’t need a nose job. Trust me.”

He left and returned a few minutes later, saying that Dr Mizusawa was very busy but that she had agreed to take a lunch break and speak to Alan during that time. This meant that Alan waited around for more than an hour longer than he’d been anticipating. He checked his phone several times, but there were no messages or missed calls from Makoto; not in almost two days, when they’d broken up. Alan had felt too anxious to speak to Makoto then, and Makoto hadn’t called back since. Alan gave it half an hour and then, after no call, went off to sniffle by himself in a cubicle of the clinic’s very well maintained toilets. It _hurt_ to feel that Makoto had forgotten him so quickly.

Alan was eventually summoned to his appointment with Haruka’s mother. Dr Mizusawa inspected Alan’s nose and wrote several notes about it, then insisted on measuring his face. She came to the conclusion that he had an unusually high level of facial symmetry. Apparently this was a very good thing and meant that Alan was gorgeous.

“You have one of the most attractive noses I have ever seen,” she said. “I know that if we could use your nose as a model, a large number of our patients would request it. It could be very profitable … and of course, we would pay you well.”

Alan said, “I am naturally beautiful. I don’t want people to think I owe my looks to cosmetic surgery. It is damaging to my public image and the good name of the de Ganma family.”

“Our surgeons would not copy your nose _exactly_. Each individual face is different, and we have to work with the patient’s own features. However, a nose resembling yours would certainly be a very popular offer. Not many people are born with a face as perfect as yours.”

After some discussion, Alan arranged a business meeting between himself, Dr Mizusawa, Adonis, and Edith; Adonis’s closest friend, the de Ganma family’s lawyer. Dr Mizusawa had suggested that Alan not only provide the model for his nose but appear in a print and TV advertising campaign for the clinic. Alan had plans to get in touch with the local hospital. It was possible he could donate his fee to them, or that instead of paying him the Nozama Clinic could offer reconstructive surgery for someone who otherwise would not have been able to afford it.

He enjoyed being told that he was so naturally perfect he didn’t need a nose job; that, in fact, people would want surgery to look like _him_. Alan would normally have been delighted by this and yet today, he did not feel any better. He could be the most beautiful person in the whole world (and secretly, he thought he was a strong contender for the title) but none of it mattered if he didn’t have Makoto with him.

Makoto was sure to be angry even if Alan tried to apologise. It was beginning to make Alan wonder whether he should simply not have tried to rekindle their relationship at all. He’d genuinely wanted to help Takeru reunite ATM, and he’d asked Makoto to dinner with the honest intention of getting him to agree to perform with the other two. But Alan could not pretend he hadn’t still had some feelings for Makoto, and when it became apparent that Makoto shared those feelings, they had resumed their relationship as quickly as if they’d never spent the last decade apart.

Alan wished those ten years had never happened. If he could magically erase them and go back to the beginning of their life together, he would make sure he never lost Makoto. But the fact remained he had; and now he’d lost Makoto again, this time seemingly forever.

***

Alan went to a European bakery which made his favourite dessert, apple crumble. It wasn’t easy to come by in Japan, and was very expensive because of the cost of apples, but he was a regular there and the staff knew him by name. He ordered a delivery for the following afternoon, when he and his sister would be able to go down to the park to enjoy apple crumble and takoyaki in the open air. He called Alia to ask her to keep her diary free.

“We will be visiting the park tomorrow afternoon to enjoy Fumi-baa’s takoyaki and a delicious dessert. It will be a private celebration just for our family,” said Alan. That meant just him and Alia, because their father was away and Adel didn’t live with them. “You don’t have any other plans, do you?”

“No,” she said. “Why are we celebrating?”

“We are celebrating my nose. I have been informed by the prestigious Nozama Clinic that it is the most perfect nose in the entire world,” said Alan.

“What?”

“It would be nice if you would buy me a card. Why don’t you write ‘Congrats on the Nose?’”

Alia asked why he didn’t just buy his own card, but agreed that she would join him in the park tomorrow. Alan wanted to see Fumi-baa _now_ , so he wandered down to her cart by himself. She was still one of his closest friends even though, in her mid-80s, she wasn’t quite as coherent as she had once been. On the evening he’d broken up with Makoto, he’d spent hours sitting on a bench with her, sobbing into her arms; she’d been sympathetic but very confused. She still seemed to believe he was dating Kanon. Fumi-baa often called Makoto “Kanon” now and vice-versa so perhaps it made sense in a way.

Alan told her about his trip to the clinic, and she smiled.

“You’ve always been a funny boy,” she said. “Has your nose stopped hurting now? I had terrible sinuses when I was a girl. What my mother used to do is …”

Alan had heard this story before, but he snuggled against her and let her tell it; because he loved her. He sat with her until it began to grow dark, then he helped her to put her jacket on and begin to tidy things away so that she could go home for the evening.

“Are you going to be all right?” she said. “You’ve been pining since your little fight with Kanon-chan.”

There was no point correcting her. “I’m fine.”

“I’ve been telling you to talk to her, but you won’t listen to me.”

“Makoto doesn’t want to listen to _me_ ,” said Alan.

“Makoto? What does he have to do with it?” Fumi-baa reached out and stroked her fingers over Alan’s cheek. “You know … humans can’t just turn off our feelings like a light switch. She’s known and loved you all this time. Whatever made her love you is still there beneath the surface, but you need to make your feelings clear to her and then let her decide.”

“Do you think so?” said Alan.

“Kanon-chan is a good girl, you know. She’s worth keeping. And Makoto is a good boy.”

Alan walked Fumi-baa home and then headed back towards his own house, feeling a renewed sense of determination. It made sense. Fumi-baa had never given him bad advice before, even now that she was getting older. He needed to make one final effort to win Makoto back; then the ball would be in Makoto’s court, and Alan would have to accept the result. But what could he do?

As he passed by the window of a shop in town, Alan thought he might have found his answer.


End file.
